League of Legends: War Games
by GuardianOfAll
Summary: With so many Summoners in the League, are they all just bound to participate in the Fields of Justice? Are the Fields of Justice the only alternative to war? (Note:) This story is partially AU but will still try and maintain canon. Pairings are also undecided until more progress is made. Characters, rating, and genre are also all subject to change 'with' the story for accuracy.
1. Chapter 1: Pantheon

_**A/N: Hey, GuardianOfAll here. I just wanted to get this out of the way before the actually story. If there's 'anything' I could've done better, let me know. I'm unfamiliar in using scene breaks or other incredible techniques in spicing up a story unlike many other stories I've read here on FanFiction. Let me know about any tips, tricks, or methods to help me improve.**_

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_**A/N 2.0: Sorry, this is a bit more refined than what I had before. I was testing the waters and failed to properly edit. I hope to have another chapter out shortly. I'm hoping to continue these shorter chapters until I become more comfortable with extending one chapter across multiple scenes.**_

_**I also wanted to add that anyone who favorites or follows might get an update message several times a day. Well, without a Beta, and no critical revision skills, the best I can do is re-edit upon getting input from you, the readers. At least know that I tend to post a new chapter alongside these revisions, like what I hope to do with Chapter 2.  
**_

_**-Peace : )**_

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**Chapter 1: Pantheon**

**Introduction**

When I first arrived here, it was to represent my people on the Fields of Justice, hosted by the League of Legends.

"The League" huh? Heh, more like a city-state with the Institute of War as its center of power. While a majority of the people who live here are Summoners, most can barely even be considered citizens. While everyone might think us Rakkorans are warmongers, at least _we_ know discipline. There are enough Summoners living here to destroy Runeterra several times over and it's mutual destruction that makes many hold back. Just a few days ago, there was a fight between several Summoners from Noxus, Ionia, and Demacia that leveled an entire residential district. The Tribunal almost tore itself apart in the ensuing chaos. No one wanted the responsibility, and it wasn't long until everyone started pointing fingers. That is until the High Council intervened. I'll be the first to admit, there's a certain respect to be had in silencing a whole room full of veteran Summoners. Not long after the judgement from the High Council was given, dozens of Summoners simply "fixed" all the damage that was done to the whole district. Then, just like that, the matter was done and over with. It's terrifying to see something that would've obliterated half an army treated like a bad headache.

I now fully understand why the League was created. It's not just a place for replacing war. The League of Legends is an isolated world where the raw power of magic can be contained and managed. Even some of the _weakest_ Summoners here could easily kill a normal person, not a Rakkoran obviously, but close. Thus why most who can wield magic end up coming here, to the safety of the League. Ensuring they don't wipe out a village or two by mistake. However, while most participate within the Fields of Justice; There are countless others that range from scholars seeking truth to lost souls who have no purpose.

It only seemed fitting then, that a Summoner would walk up to me one day and ask if I wanted to experience war again. His only condition was that I convince at least seven other Champions to participate.

Which brings me to my current situation. There are Summoners who replace real war with a new one entirely of their own design. "_War Games_" they call it. Where two or more opposing General Summoners command an army of humanoid Soldier Minions. To allow this unique variant of Minion, every ten Soldier Minions are created and commanded by a Squad Summoner. Some individual Combat Minions are even _controlled_ by Combat Summoners, meaning they're slightly more powerful than the average Soldier Minion. Lesser Minions, or "Grunts" as most Summoners have begun calling them, are the military equivalent to the common foot-soldier. The size of these "battles" can range from a small skirmish to an all-out clash of armies. They even host "campaigns" for these events. One arrogant fool even boasted that his "Legion" could _best_ the famed Rakkorans, _my_ people. It was at that moment I decided I'd remind them all what _real_ _war_ is like.

It wasn't until long after that I realized what a fool I had been.


	2. Chapter 2: Summoner Lexan Stuet

**A/N: Hey there. I just wanted to mention that I don't have a beta and my editing skills are lacking. **Just point out whatever you think needs to be fixed and I'll try my best to clean it all up ASAP.** I promise I'll improve! I swear!  
**

**This chapter will mostly be about one OC but there is another one towards the end. Don't be concerned though, just look at them as the characters who see most of the story from an outsiders perspective.  
**

**Now that _that's_ out of the way, I hope you enjoy.**

**-Peace : )**

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**Chapter 2: Summoner Lexan Stuet**

**The Past and The Game**

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**The Past:**

My name is Lexan Stuet. Please don't bother trying to get my name right, I think my uncle named me that to mess with me. I should probably start from the beginning though, things get a little complicated later on.

I was born during the last Rune Wars in the city-state of Demacia. While any crime is a very serious taboo in Demacia, so are beliefs that aren't in line with Demacia's own. Regardless, that's never stopped anyone from using "justice" to ruin someones life before.

My mother was a Noxian. She and her grandparents came to Demacia hoping save her from - _only the strong survive_ mentality of Noxus. It's another complicated story by itself but my uncle confirmed it was either Demacia or something, else. Born a Noxian and raised a Demacian, neither wanting anything to do with her.

At least my father wanted to be with her. They met during a calm period of the war during the late-teens. By the time they were in their mid-twenties, I was born. If you heard the story on why I was born from a few of the people I knew growing up, they'd say my mother was just a whore and my dad was a fool. If you heard it from my mom? She'd say it was "Just a fancy." but I knew there was always some mischief in her words. On an unrelated note, those same people I knew growing up? Ya, they became quite paranoid whenever they saw my mother and I walking down the street. Don't ask why, lets just say my mother was prone to doing things she _fancied_. Like putting glue on those peoples doors or luring rodents into certain peoples homes. My dad on the other hand, no one would really have to ask my dad to know the answer. If they did, he'd just give them the biggest smile like he knew a secret they didn't. No matter what anyone else says, my dad was a good person. When he first met my mom he literally gave the _shirt off his back_ so my mom wouldn't catch a cold in the freezing rain. He was sick for a whole week but he never once regretted it. At the time, my moms clothes were almost rags; She had been working in one of the few Inns that didn't despise _all_ Noxians. Not to imply they underpaid her though. The old couple who owned the Inn just didn't have much business when most Demacians around where we lived didn't want to visit a place that hired Noxians. Their business mostly came from Ionians, Demacians that weren't bastards, and even the rare Noxian.

Thankfully, we were somewhat well off by the time my parents got together and I was born. My dad owned his family's business that provided craft goods made from stuff like wood, stone, and even metal. We weren't poor but it wasn't exactly the ideal picture of Demacian society most seemed to live in either. I even found myself at the Inn my mother used to work in whenever she helped to keep the place running. As I said, both of our businesses weren't exactly rich.

Things were going okay until I was around eight. That's when I saw a side of Demacia I'll never be able to forget. My father had an arrangement with some foreign merchants and had been selling them our families special crafts. That's the reason why we were even able to compete with other businesses. While our products were unique and of higher quality than most, we weren't influential enough to get far beyond our own district. So the merchants paid us and made an easy profit by selling our crafts in other markets.

The deal had even been in place for a few years, until one of the merchants decided they didn't need my dad, just the business. The techniques were passed down through the family, but they were still technically part of the business. We even had records of how to make everything. What, you thought my family passed their methods from master to apprentice? That might work for some groups or fairy-tales but that's just not practical. Sadly that's also exactly why it'd ruin us in the end. By demanding a refund on his "investment", and with no "contract" to prove our side of the deal, the merchant got the business to "pay back our debt". Then came the bigger problems.

My father didn't have enough to make our family's unique crafts and almost no one could just _sell_ any old box on the streets. If not for the old couple who owned the Inn we would've been homeless. Then the merchant who ruined us, Edsoh was his name, convinced the _other two _merchants to accuse my father of several crimes that we couldn't even disprove. It might not have been enough to convict my father _now_ but back then? During the Rune Wars where armies were, literally, tearing apart all of Runeterra with some of the most disgusting abuses of magic? It was enough for the time.

What those three didn't expect however, was just how _strongly_ Demacians felt about upholding justice and how strict they were with law. With so many crimes placed against my father it made him look like a greedy, evil, _Noxian_. Even more so when it was discovered that my mother herself was a Noxian. The best my dad could've walked away with was life in prison. The worst. . . Well, wartime paranoia and national fervor does some scary things to people.

As the fighting neared its climax my mother knew that us being "Noxians" in Demacia was not the safest option for me anymore. The only good thing to come out of everything was that the merchants felt shitty enough to actually help us. They even got a few mercenaries and mages to help protect us while we traveled with one of their caravans. So off we went, across a continent in open warfare until I finally reached Noxus. Sadly my mother didn't make it, some twisted magic had killed her. It wasn't until much later when I'd learn it was that monster "_**Singed**_". The only reason I'm even alive is because one of the mages shielded me from most of it. Which only made me get seriously sick, but not die. I was one of the few lucky ones out of that entire caravan. The rest of the journey was only myself, a few wagons, seven or so employees, three guards, and a mage. Everyone else was just unlucky enough to get caught in one tragedy or another.

After I reached Noxus my mother's brother, ergo my uncle, took me in. He gave me a new name to help hide my identity seeing as my old name sounded too "Demacian". It was a relief to know that my uncle never hated me, far from it. I knew that whenever he on the front-lines, when he had plenty of money saved up, was because he wanted to ensure he could support me. Had he died there was even enough already saved to easily help a young boy become a full-grown adult. Thankfully the war ended and my uncle came home, scared in many ways but still alive. I grew up in Noxus until I turned nineteen. It was then that I traveled to the Institute of War in an attempt to become a Summoner as Noxian officials almost discovered my natural talents with magic; The only mage to survive our journey was also the one who discovered it. He even taught me how to harness and refine it. How I hid it for so long is either sheer luck or I was really just that unimportant to the Noxians. I only left behind a letter for my Uncle, his wife, and the cousin who I came to see as a little brother.

I'm thirty-one now, at 6' 3" / ~189cm. With silver-white ear-length hair and a short silver-white beard, courtesy of when Singed's poison had almost killed me as a child. My eyes tend to simmer with a muddy-brown too. I think, when I was younger, my eyes used to be a gentle blue. At least that's what my mom had told me. Despite all of that though, I was pretty damn lucky my whole life. I mean, damn, I've narrowly escaped the worst of every bad thing that's happened all my life. I think it was near the end of the first "Grand War Games" that my luck might've ran out.

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**The Game:**

Before any of the Grand War Games or whatever, I was standing beside a desk on the second-story of a library trying to get Tares, a friend of mine, to also join the next War Game.

"Come on Tares, just look at it like a learning experience." I had just recently joined the War Games myself when I tried convincing a few young Summoners into joining as well. Even now I can easily say that when you command _ten_ Soldier Minions your summoning control increases, well, tenfold.

"And I told _you,_ Lexan, to leave me alone." Tares was younger than I was but only by about six years. He's the type who prefers to keep the hood of his robe down at all times. He's such a show-off. Okay, so what if he has that cool-looking spiky black hair, dark-green eyes, and a light tan? I'm still taller than him, well, he's 5' 11" / ~179cm.. So not too much of a victory but I'll take what I can get.

"Look, I know your married to your books and all. But just try joining our team, there's this really cute girl with us and I _know-_" **Sighs**, one moment you're a master matchmaker and the next your stupefied from something that, in hindsight, shouldn't be all that shocking.

"Know what?" I'm pretty sure he was interested too! Small victories though, small victories.

". . . ."

"LEX!"

"Pantheon and Tryndamere." Okay, so it might not have been my _coolest_ moment but those two together usually means a fight, destruction, and or chaos. Not always in that order.

"What? Where!?" It took most of my immense willpower to not smack him upside the head and twist his damn neck to look out the window. Honestly, he was acting like those two were in the library!

"There! Outside!"

"What? why?" You know, I consider it a great accomplishment that I didn't _throw him_ out the window. He looked like a little kid having his favorite puppy taken away! _**Why would those two be in a library****!?**_

"Tares, why in the Void should I know?"

"Well what are they even talking abou-"

"Tares, I swear, if you finish that sentence I'm gonna toss you out that window so you can_ bloody well ask them_!"

". . . Technically it was a question."

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**Pantheon's**** POV:**

I'm the Artisan of War and a proud Rakkoran.

So imagine my surprise when I looked up at a library window to see, what appeared to be, a ghost strangling a porcupine. It never even registered that I had thrown my spear in _panic_. I felt sick to my stomach, it wasn't because Tryndamere was laughing himself into an early grave on the ground or the fact that I might've just seen that ghost's ghost. No, it was because I remembered the young boy who wanted to be a baker. Even that one time the boy had made a cake for Leona only to have his friend Aeneas eat the whole thing. It was a mixture of fury, frustration, and. . . _embarrassment_. That feeling quickly faded though, as my shield. . . Fell, on Tryndamere. We even had to grab a pair of Summoners to settle the issue like warriors. At least I knew Tryndamere was going to participate. He and everyone else would make all the difference in the things to come.

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**The Game:**

I had just started strangl- I mean, _shaking,_ Tares, when something smashed through the window, then the top floor, then the _roof_, moving at supersonic speeds the entire time. I nearly had a heart attack before I noticed my personal shield had deflected something aimed right at my heart. I would later realize it had been **_Pantheon's spear_**. Suffice to say, I tried my best to avoid him in the following War Games. Sadly that doesn't mean it worked out as I had hoped.

His spears just kept flying in my general direction no matter _what_ I tried. It was just my luck though. . . That all those spears not only _missed_, but then seemed to _attract_ danger from everywhere around me.

The War Games brought out some interesting things from everyone. Some good, some bad, some just flat out _weird_, and a few that can't even be described with words.

In the end though, who would've expected that a few small victories could lead to even bigger ones. . . Of course this is with danger always hot on my tail.


End file.
